


and the blue lights shining with a heavenly grace, help you right on by

by ashintuku



Series: fox on the run [11]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Mild Language, Star Wars References, Unacknowledged Familial Bonding, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashintuku/pseuds/ashintuku
Summary: “We haven’t been out of the ship inmonths.”“Gettin’ sick of us?”“Gettin’ sick of yoursmell.”





	and the blue lights shining with a heavenly grace, help you right on by

“Hey, Kraglin?” 

Kraglin looked up from cleaning his nails with his pocket knife, staring blandly at the teenager in front of him. Peter shifted awkwardly, ruffled the back of his hair and grinned at him sheepishly. Kraglin rolled his eyes. 

“No.” 

“But, you don’t even know what I was gonna—!”

“ _No_ , y’can’t borrow my M-ship. What kinda stupid do you take me fer, kid?” Peter groaned, droppin’ into the bench across from Kraglin in the mess, and the first mate snorted. “What’cha even _need_ it fer? We ain’t doin’ any jobs. An’ ya better not say somethin’ dumb like ‘joyriding’ ‘cause that ain’t _ever_ gon’ happen.” 

Peter stayed quiet. Kraglin picked up the nearest small and mostly harmless object within reach and threw it at the boy’s head. 

“Hey!” 

“M-ships ain’t for _joyrides_ , Pete,” Kraglin said, droppin’ his knife and crossing his arms. “They’s fer _missions_ an’ _battles_.”

“Yondu used to take me down to abandoned planets just to learn how to shoot a gun in the _Warbird_ all the time.” 

“Wha’ Cap’n does don’t apply t’the rest of us, y’hear?” Kraglin shook his head, scratching at his chest. He took another long look at Peter, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “...Wha’s the real reason?” 

“What? Totally joyrides. I wanna practice my spins and loopdeloops. Still kinda wonky on those.” 

Kraglin snorted, leaning back. 

“We’ll practice later on in the week, when ya got proper supervision and won’t kill yerself – you know that. Now wha’s the _real_ reason?” 

Peter fidgeted, looking anywhere but at Kraglin, but heaving out a sigh and shrugging. He folded his arms over the table between them, resting his chin on his arms and closing his eyes. 

“We haven’t been out of the ship in _months_.” 

“Gettin’ sick of us?” 

“Gettin’ sick of your _smell_.” Kraglin wheezed a laugh, and Peter smirked before burying into his arms again. “Everything just feels really small. Squished in.” 

“Claustrophobic?” 

“There are like four syllables in that word, Krags, how do you even know it?” 

Kraglin tossed another small object at his head. Peter barely even bothered to glare. 

“Stop it with the weird alien peas already, god.” 

“Don’t insult my goddamned intelligence, brat.” Peter held his hands up in surrender, and Kraglin grunted. “Y’wan’ outta the ship, then? Fer what?” 

“Stretch my legs. Go see the galaxy? Roadtrip. _Something_. I am nineteen years old and I barely know anything about this galaxy outside of some made up stories about stars, the alarmingly large amount of planets totally abandoned from war or natural disasters, and which prisons are in which quadrant.” 

“Tha’ last one’s pretty important t’know in our line’a work.” 

“I’m just _sayin’_ that I have been living in _space_ for like. Eleven years. And I don’t know a damned thing about it except for what you guys let me see. I’m _bored_. I’m feelin’ trapped. I’m starting to get cabin fever.” 

Kraglin blinked, reached forward to check Peter’s temperature, and was whacked away for his troubles. 

“It’s a saying; I cannot believe you don’t have that saying.” 

“S’it like ship jitters? Gettin’ twitchy ‘cause you been stuck in one place too long but can’t do anythin’ about it?” 

Peter nodded, sitting up again. “That is exactly it. Ship jitters, got it. I’ve got ship jitters. I gotta get out. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.” 

“What’cha goin’ on about now, kid?” 

“Never mind. Old movie from Terra. Doesn’t matter. Can I _please_ borrow your M-ship? I promise I’ll bring it right back in perfect condition.” 

Kraglin eyed him, before snorting and pickin’ up his knife, going back to cleaning his nails. 

“No, Pete. Now piss off, wouldja? Yer s’posed t’be doin’ somethin’ fer Tullk right about now, yeah?” 

“...Shit, right,” Peter pushed himself up, making his way quickly out of the mess. “Also thanks for nothin’, asshole!” 

“No problem, ya shit!” Kraglin waited a minute, before touching his comm lightly. It crackled, before the Cap’n’s voice came into his earpiece. 

“Wha’ is it, ya idjit?” 

“Gotta talk t’ya ‘bout Pete.” 

A brief silence, followed by a world-weary sigh, filled his earpiece.

“Fer the last eleven years tha’ is _all_ I have heard outta yer mouth. Git to the bridge, then.” 

“Yessir.” 

~+~

Kraglin stepped through the door to the bridge, nodding to Horuz as he passed the other Xandarian. Horuz barely even glanced at him; too busy scowling at something or another. The man was a grouch, and that was sayin’ something when the Cap’n was who he was. 

He looked around to see the bridge empty, save for the sprawlin’ figure of the Cap’n in his chair, not even bothering to face Kraglin as he came in. As Kraglin walked around the chair to face him, he saw his hands folded over his stomach and his Yaka exposed; ready for anythin’. Sad state, it was, that the Cap’n couldn’t even sit in his own goddamn ship without waitin’ for a knife in his back. 

“Wha’s this ‘bout the boy, now, Kraglin?” 

“Think it’s ‘bout time we gave ‘im his own ship, Cap’n,” Kraglin said, stopping in front of the Cap’n and beating his chest in the Ravager salute. The Centaurian eyed him, chewing on the inside of his cheek, and Kraglin wondered how he never ended up with bloody teeth after the fact. “He’s learned all he’s gotta learn. He’s startin’ to get better’n _me_.” 

“Yer the second best goddamn pilot on the ship, Kraglin.” 

“Yep – an’ he broke one’a my records jus’ the other day. Soon enough he’ll break all’a ‘em, shit’s competitive.” Yondu snorted, and Kraglin grinned, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops. “In all seriousness, though, Cap’n – it’s ‘bout time we got ‘im a ship. Some missions he’s practically flyin’ by ‘imself, his co-pilots are so damned lazy, an’ it’s ‘bout time we started him on his own missions.” 

“Ya reckon, d’ya?” 

Kraglin paused, shiftin’ as the Cap’n stared at him blankly. He had one of his trinkets in his hand, now, a trunked creature that Peter had knicked off of a planet that had been more of a bust than anythin’. Kid had had a good time in the market, but they hadn’t gotten anything for their troubles, and the merchant had been an asshole anyway. 

“...We can’t keep ‘im on the ship forever, Cap’n,” Kraglin said softly, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground. He had to be careful, here – he could royally fuck up, get Yondu pissed enough for his candour, and he and the Yaka would become uncomfortably, lethally acquainted. “At some point he’s just gonna steal a ship an’ fly off. Better we know where he’s goin’ than not, right?” 

The Cap’n continued to just stare at him, slowly spinning the trunked creature in his hands; somethin’ to do while he thought over his first mate’s words. He then snorted, shifting to lounge in his chair, and flicked his red gaze back out the observation windows; a general dismissal of the entire conversation. 

“I’ll think ‘bout it,” he said finally, and Kraglin whistled out a sigh and nodded. “Put t’gether a team – we’re headed t’the Rings of Velune. Got ourselves a minin’ job: heard about some raw materials that’ll sell on the black market fer a pretty sum.” 

“Any suggestions, sir?” 

“Quill – he’s the best damned one with numbers. Oblo, too – he came from a minin’ colony, he’ll know how t’use the equipment. You decide whoever-the-fuck else, I don’t give a shit.” 

Kraglin saluted the Cap’n again, leaving the bridge as quick as he’d arrived; already puttin’ together a roster. 

He missed the Cap’n pullin’ up a datapad, scrollin’ through ship specs. 

~+~

It didn’t come up for another few months. 

The Ravagers kept busy, of course. Minin’ jobs, heists, and a couple of cons here and there. Peter beat the rest of Kraglin’s records, crowin’ his victories and telling everyone who cared that he was officially better than Kraglin. He then promised he was gonna beat the Cap’n, next, and Kraglin had wheezed out a laugh and told him ‘good fuckin’ luck, kid’. 

Cap’n started to send Peter off on missions planet-side by himself a week or two after his and Kraglin’s conversation, and the kid flourished. He conned, stole, bribed, and worked information out of people usin’ charm and his special terran brand of luck. Brought in a good amount of units whenever they picked him up, too, so Cap’n didn’t have a reason to say he wasn’t ready yet. And while it was more freedom than he’d had before, Peter still seemed twitchy and desperate to get out. 

It was nearin’ around when they guessed the kid’s birthday was (a younger Peter havin’ told them the day and month, and then someone on the ship convertin’ that to the galactic calendar with a bit of difficulty) when they docked in G’Eskur, a planet known for its casinos, bettin’ rings, and ship races. It also had the quadrant’s largest shoppin’ district within the nearest three hundred clicks. 

The whole crew ambled out of the shuttles, the _Eclector_ docked just outside of atmo for space reasons; fanning out to go to their respective vices without waiting for Cap’n’s word. Peter jogged up to walk with Kraglin, lookin’ around. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here before.” 

“Nope,” Kraglin confirmed, thumbs hooked into his belt loops and gun strapped to his back as always. Locals gave the Ravager crew the side-eye, but didn’t say nothin’ – Ravagers were generally unliked, but they were also good for business and loose with money when it came to gamblin’. 

“What’s the deal with this planet?” 

“S’a mercantile and gamblin’ hub,” Kraglin said, shrugging and waving a hand quickly to show the different casinos, racing tracks, and shopping districts. There were also the telltale signs of the red light district not too far away; a good few Ravagers already headin’ that way. “Can find pretty much anythin’ here. Sex, gamblin’, entertainment, racin’...” 

“What kind of racing?” 

“Orloni, fer one,” Kraglin said, smirkin’ at Peter’s unimpressed look. “Got bigger critters, too. Ships, but those’re farther off.” He held up a hand when Peter’s face lit up, shakin’ his head. “Cap’n’s orders: we ain’t t’go too far. We’re only here fer a day or two. Takes ‘bout a day jus’ t’get to the ship races. Gotta have ‘em in big, open, abandoned places, right? No time t’see ‘em.” 

Peter’s shoulders dropped as he seemed to deflate; hand landing on his Walkman and tapping on the old plastic carefully. “Yeah, okay...” 

“Market’s good, though. Got all kinds’a things, there – might even be some terran junk.” 

Peter perked up immediately, headin’ towards the general direction of the market, and Kraglin followed after him; Cap’n’s order about keepin’ an eye on the boy making him stick close. 

It was a few hours into the trip, Peter neck-deep in a terran junk shop, when Kraglin’s comm went off. He reached up and pressed it, turnin’ away from Peter to keep the conversation private. 

“Yes, sir?” 

“Make sure the boy don’t steal nothin’.” 

“I’m keepin’ an eye on ‘im,” Kraglin assured, though he doubted that Peter would steal from anyone here. The boy knew they were payin’ customers on the planet, and besides – he only tended to steal when it was for jobs or from assholes. Kid didn’t steal for kicks like some of the other crew. “Was interested in the ship races.” 

“S’too far.” 

“Yeah, I told him.” Kraglin scratched at his chest, glancin’ back at Peter before turning around again. “Where are ya even at, Cap’n? Didn’t see ya leave the shuttles.” 

“Never you mind,” Cap’n said, a growl in his voice, and Kraglin wisely backed off. “Keep the boy occupied. We got a hotel near the casinos fer the night. Make sure he’s back in after it gets dark. Don’t need ‘im slippin’ off by hisself.” 

“Yessir.” His comm crackled off, again, and Kraglin turned to see Peter holdin’ up a little dollie with bright orange hair. 

“The hell’s that thing?” 

“It’s a troll doll!” Peter took in the blank look Kraglin was givin’ him, and sighed dramatically. “S’these stupid dolls that were really popular back when I was a kid. Mom had a little collection of the things. I used to play around with them, make up adventures.” He looked at the dollie again, turnin’ it over carefully in his hands. “Haven’t seen one in _ages_...” 

Kraglin watched as he seemed to think over somethin’, before marching over to the counter and plunking the dollie in front of him for the sellar. 

“How much?” 

“That’s good quality terran merchandise,” the seller started, liftin’ the dollie and looking it over like it was fine jewels. “This far out from that system? I’d wager... 3000 units.” 

“Bull,” Peter shook his head, hands firmly planted on his hips, “look at the wear and tear on the troll’s clothes. And see the smudge on the nose? It’s worn – _used_. I wouldn’t even pay one thousand units for that thing.” 

“You know your terran merch, boy?” 

“I’m _from_ Terra, I’d sure hope I know it.” 

The sellar shifted, brow ridges raised, before he tapped a clawed hand on the counter. 

“900.” 

“600.” 

“800.” 

“750 – I’m not goin’ any higher.” 

“Gah,” the seller snorted, pushing back and ringnin’ in the doll. “Robbin’ me, is what you’re doin’. 755 – last offer.” 

“Done.” Peter tapped a band on his wrist; a holo screen poppin’ up as he transferred the units over to the merchant. “Pleasure doin’ business with ya.” 

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here, ya damned Ravager.” 

Kraglin snorted, followin’ after the boy as Peter swiped the dollie and walked out of the store as if he had just finished a high-payin’ score. He grinned over at Kraglin, then, pocketing the little thing and lookin’ around the market some more. 

“Where to next, Krags?” 

Before the first mate could answer, the boy’s stomach growled, and Kraglin wheezed out a laugh. 

“I guess tha’ answers that.” 

~+~

They stayed on G’Eskur for two and a half days, Kraglin and Peter runnin’ around the main city and lookin’ at the different shops, restaurants, and entertainment avaible to ‘em. They both avoided the red light district, if only because Peter didn’t like those kinds of spots and Kraglin was supposed to be keepin’ an eye on him. 

As they shuffled their way to the shuttles, waitin’ for the others to get their hung-over asses inside the craft, the Cap’n came up to them; pickin’ his teeth with a toothpick. 

“Got somethin’ fer the boy to see once we dock in the _Eclector_ ,” he said, lookin’ side-long at Kraglin. Peter was too busy helping Tullk, who seemed to be half-asleep and unhappy to be leaving, into the shuttle. “Bring ‘im ‘round the dockin’ bay after dinner.” 

“Sir?” 

Cap’n waved a hand, leavin’ without further explanation, and Kraglin scratched the back of his head. 

“Kraglin, watch out!” 

He jumped, groaning as Tullk threw up all over his shoes. 

“Ah, Tullk, ya old _bastard_.” 

“I tried to warn you!” 

“Get ‘im _inside_ already, wouldja?”

~+~

“Am I in trouble?” 

Kraglin didn’t bother answerin’, walking down the _Eclector’s_ hallways at a brisk pace. Peter followed after, finishin’ off the last of his dinner roll as he tried to keep up with the skinnier man. Boy might’ve been taller than him, now, but he could still outpace the brat if he wanted to. Somethin’ gratifying about that, honestly. 

They came up to the docking bay doors, and Kraglin hit the panel for the doors to open. He then indicated for Peter to walk in ahead of him, following after the boy had stepped through. He kept back a few paces as Peter walked inside; gettin’ the feeling the Cap’n didn’t want much of an audience. 

They walked towards the back of the docking bay, where they could hear familiar whistlin’. Stopping just beside the _Warbird_ , Kraglin’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. 

Peter flat-out gasped. 

“Holy _shit_ is that a new M-ship?” 

It stood like a shiny new toy, blue and orange and cleaner than anythin’ on the goddamn ship. Familiar in make to the _Warbird_ , it looked to have a few upgrades of its own. It was gorgeous, really – a ship worth admirin’. And it must’ve cost a pretty sum, too, if Kraglin knew anythin’ about his ships. 

Last time they’d gotten a new M-ship had been back when Kraglin had been promoted to first mate. The Cap’n had given it to him as a ‘congratulations for not bein’ a total fuck up’, and he took care of his bird like the respectable lady she was. 

Peter walked up to this new M-ship in wonder, reaching up as if to touch it. The whisltin’ stopped. 

“Careful – wouldn’t want t’ruin the paint job on ‘er,” Cap’n said, and he stepped down from the open ramp, lookin’ at Peter with a crooked grin. “She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” 

“Did you just get her? Is that why we didn’t see you anywhere? Holy crap, Yondu, this is the prettiest ship I’ve ever seen, I might be in love.” 

“Well that’s good,” Cap’n said, walkin’ over to Peter and slappin’ him on the shoulder. “Seein’ as it’s yers.” 

Kraglin raised his brows, and Peter gaped at the Cap’n. 

“It’s _what_ now?” 

“I may call you boy, but you’s a grown man, now. Able t’do yer own jobs and earn yer own keep. We can’t have ya takin’ the spare ships on missions whenever we send ya out – don’t know how long you’ll take, some jobs. Best ya got yer own.” 

“It’s _brand new_.” 

“Means it’s dependable.” Cap’n looked back at the ship, hand planted on his hip as he took in his purchase. “Ain’t gonna crap out on ya durin’ inopportune moments. You’ll be payin’ me back fer the expenses, of course, with all the jobs yer gon’ be doin’. Don’t think this is free, boy.” His voice was hard, and Peter nodded quickly to show he understood; but Kraglin saw the way the Cap’n smiled at the joy on the kid’s face before he hid it in his customary smirk. 

“You are _not_ gonna regret this, Yondu, I swear, holy _shit_.” 

“Best not, boy,” Cap’n warned. His red eyes flickered over to Kraglin, and he gave him a look as if to say ‘happy now?’; Kraglin smirked, crossin’ his arms and leanin’ back. 

“Pretty bird like that deserves a name, Pete,” Kraglin called out, then, and Peter jumped as if he’d forgotten Kraglin was even there. 

“Need a name fer the records, boy,” Cap’n added. Peter nodded, stepping forward and lifting his hand again; runnin’ the tips of his fingers along the nearest fin he could reach. 

“... _Milano_ ,” he said after a moment, turnin’ to look back at the Cap’n and the first mate. “Her name’s the _Milano_.” 

“The hell does that mean?” 

“...Pretty name for a pretty lady,” Peter said cryptically. The Cap’n turned to Kraglin again, but the Xandarian only shrugged; just as confused. Peter then disappeared up the ramp. After a moment, the Cap’n and Kraglin followed. 

They found him in the cockpit, looking over the dash and running his hands over everything; familiarizin’ himself with any differences from the slightly older M-ship models he’d been flyin’ for years. He then reached into his pocket, setting his little dollie onto the dash, and grinned wide. 

“This is the best day of my _life_. Thank you, Yondu.” 

“Don’t thank me, boy – just bring in good units. It ain’t fer _joyrides_ or nothin’.” 

“Right, of course, totally.” 

Cap’n frowned, turned to Kraglin, and pointed his thumb at the boy. 

“He ain’t listenin’ anymore, is he?” 

Kraglin took in the way Peter already seemed to be lost in a world of plannin’ and adventures, and snorted a laugh. 

“Not even a bit, Cap’n.”


End file.
